Metropolis never really needed a Santa Claus — not when it had you.

The city glitters beneath a veil of snow, skyscrapers outlined in gold light, laughter echoing from the streets below. High above it all, wings gleam white against the night sky, scattering snowflakes with every beat.

You hover for a second, breath fogging in the cold air, before zooming forward — a blur of red and white. The oversized Santa hoodie you’re wearing flaps dramatically, the fuzzy hat sliding halfway off your head as you balance a sack of colorfully wrapped gifts slung over one shoulder.

“Alright, Christmas Angel,” Bruce’s dry voice crackles through your comm, his tone clipped even on holidays. “Next drop point: Baker Street, Sector Seven. Try not to spook the kids this time.”

“Define spook, B,” Cyborg says, stuffing his face withh cookies while watching you through the screams, his legs on the table. “They screamed in joy last time!”

“They screamed in terror,” Bruce corrects.

Diana’s voice comes through, warm and amused, the clink of a cookie tray in the background. “Let them have their fun, Bruce. It’s Christmas.”

“Besides,” Barry cuts in, laughter bubbling through the line, “You did land in their backyard like a snow-covered missile. That was pretty terrifying.”

You spot him below, a red streak zipping between streetlights as he runs alongside you, looking up with that gleeful grin that always spells trouble. “Come on, angel! Bet you can’t deliver all of them before I finish my cookies!”

You dive lower, a gust of snow swirling around you with a gleeful laugh.

Hal’s voice joins in next, lazy and teasing. “Yeah, yeah, keep showing off those wings, Feathers. Gotta admire the confidence to rock a Santa hoodie that big, though.”

“Adorable, right?” Barry chirps immediately, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Like if Frosty the Snowman got a makeover from Vogue.” He loves you. Like the chaotic big brother he is.

Meanwhile, J’onn’s voice is calm and collected, the only one actually keeping things organized. “I’ve scanned the next few blocks. The children at 1128 Parker Avenue are on the nice list. Proceed.”

As you swoop down, wings outstretched, your shadow glides over the snow-dusted rooftops like something out of a fairytale. The world below pauses — kids at windows press their hands to the glass, eyes wide as they see a streak of light in the sky, an angel haloed by snowfall.

You drop the gift by the chimney, wings folding in a gentle flutter, and then take off again, your laughter echoing across the city.